


Not Forgotten

by lasvegas_lights



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasvegas_lights/pseuds/lasvegas_lights
Summary: It’s been six long months. Six months of hunting alone before retuning back to the same town to watch from the shadows as his brother lives another life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote a while ago and just recently found. Unbeta'd. Enjoy!

It’s been six long months. Six months of hunting alone before retuning back to the same town to watch from the shadows as his brother lives another life. A life where he wears a blue jumpsuit with a patch on the pocket that says Al’s Garage. He watches him make friends and go on dates with the cute blonde from down the street. He smiles when his brother does. It’s been a long time since he’s seen him so carefree, so relaxed. The weight of the world isn’t driving him into the ground anymore.

A part of him is content to watch, to see his brother make a life for himself and be happy. Maybe he’ll still be watching in five years time, when his brother has settled down with the cute blonde. He wonders if he’ll be alive in five years time to see a wedding ring on his finger.

The other part of him wants his brother to know who he is, wants to be selfish and drag him back to his old life...his real life. He’s never been good at being alone, he’s needed someone since he was six years old and strange nightmares kept him awake at night and only being near his brother made him feel safe enough to fall back asleep.  He’s needed his brother all his life and being so near yet so far away is tearing him in two.

He wonders what his reaction would be. Would he call him crazy and turn away or would be believe him? Would his memories return? And if so, would his brother resent him for pulling him away from his perfect life? He wished he had the answers.

He knows his brother visits a shrink in the next town over once a week. The brother he knew would _never_ go see a shrink. It makes him wonder what else is different about him. Sometimes he stands outside the shrinks office and watches him arrive, staying in the same position until he leaves again, trying to gauge any miniscule change there might be in him from his hour with the shrink. Sometimes he leaves the office tense and guarded, other times he has red-rimmed eyes and it makes him ache to think he wasn’t there to comfort his brother.

He broke into the shrink’s office once and stole his brother’s session tapes. He had pushed them into the car’s tape player and pressed play. In the empty motel parking lot he sat and listened. It had been too long since he’d heard his brother’s voice.

_“So Scott, how are you doing?”_  

_“The same.”_

He doesn’t recognise the voice asking the question, it’s deep and soothing just like you’d expect from a shrink. He barely recognises his brother’s voice. He can hear the frustration and weariness he hides so well from everyone. It hurts to hear him being called Scott and another pang of hatred for his situation runs through his body.

“ _Have you remembered anything new?”_

_“No, nothing...it’s still just a...a dark hole in my mind.”_

_“It’ll come.”_

_“I’m not so sure anymore doc.”_

He doesn’t want his brother to give up hope. Doesn’t want him to feel so much despair, even when he’s torn between his want to give him a better life and his need for his brother back. He gets headaches as his brain tries to contradict itself. He wants his brother to remember...yet he wants him to let go of what he doesn’t remember.

_“And the nightmares?”_

_“...worse than ever.”_

_“Tell me about them Scott.”_

_“I wish I...the things that I see...there are no words to describe...”_

He stopped the tape after that. He didn’t want to hear anymore, not when he knew his brother was still having nightmares, even now, when he had no idea what they even meant. He had no idea that they were memories...horrific memories. How could someone with no recollection of their past still be haunted by their worst memories?

Another month passes and he’s hunted a ghost and exorcised a demon in between visits to the small town. He watches his brother eat lunch with his co-workers at a small diner, smiling when his brother orders extra pie. He watches his brother start to build a car from scratch, watching as it comes together, each piece of metal lovingly fixed and installed into the empty car shell. It’s his own personal therapy. Putting the pieces of the puzzle together one by one gives him time to think and reflect. He wonders what’s on his brother’s mind.

He looks away for only a moment and when he looks back his brother has disappeared. Old irrational fears bubble to the surface and only go away when his brother grips his bicep and yanks him hard. He finds himself pressed against a brick wall, an arm pushed against his neck.

“Who the hell are you?” His brother demands, no recognition in his eyes. He says nothing. “You’ve been following me around.” He winces as the arm presses hard and he struggles to draw breath. He knows he could fight back and he knows he would win but something stops him. “Tell me _who you are!”_

He never expected this outcome, never in a million years. It’s the moment where he has to decide. _Truth or lies._

He answers his brother, not knowing if he’s making the right decision. He’s not sure if he’ll ever know. “My name is Sam - Sam Winchester - I’m your brother.”      


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been six months, six long months of living with a giant black hole in his head. They told him his name was Scott Sawyers but the name feels strange when he says it, like it doesn’t fit. He always feels like he’s talking about a complete stranger when he tells people his name, feels like he’s stolen someone’s identity. He spends hours looking in the mirror in his little apartment above the garage he supposedly works at, hoping to see the Scott that everyone else sees. He doesn’t. His shrink tells him to keep a notepad and write down anything he remembers, no matter how small and insignificant. The pad still lies unused on his nightstand, taunting him that his mind has failed him.

He doesn’t understand what happened to him, not really. He just wakes up one day in a small clinic in an equally small town in the middle of nowhere with no injuries and nothing to explain his memory loss. His shrink guesses it’s probably psychological, like he’d seen something so traumatic he’d blocked everything out. He has bad nightmares, awful ones that wake up him in the middle of the night, his voice hoarse from screaming and his sheets damp and tangled around his legs, so he guesses the shrink is right.

The town is nice enough, everyone knows his name and he makes friends quickly. He’s given a job at the garage and even though he knows nothing about cars he soon picks it up, like he’s been doing it his whole life. He bought a shell two months ago and he’s been building himself his own car in his spare time ever since. There’s a diner he likes down the street from the garage that makes the best apple pie he’s ever tasted...or at least he thinks it’s the best he’s ever tasted. He’s even managed to get himself a girlfriend. Her name’s Abby and she’s sweet and funny and doesn’t care he has no memory. He takes her to the diner or bowling; sometimes they just stay at his apartment and make out on his couch. He’s been to her place a couple of times but family photos up on the wall or tacked to the fridge remind him of what he doesn’t have. He assumes he has no family; no-one’s come looking for him and he wouldn’t even know where to start looking for people he doesn’t even remember.

Occasionally, when he’s working or walking down the street, shivers run down his spine. He doesn’t know what it means but it’s accompanied with an uneasy feeling. When it first started happening he just shrugged it off but he just can’t let it go any longer. The shivers and uneasiness turn to paranoia and he tells Abby all about it. She calls him crazy and he starts to wonder if he is, if it’s just another symptom to add to amnesia.

Next time the shivers run down his spine he freezes in the middle of the street. His eyes scan the street and he catches a glimpse of a tall figure before it disappears behind a building. Suddenly he sees the figure everywhere he goes, always just glimpses and shadows, never a face. He’s even been watching him when he goes to see his shrink; he knows he’s there, even if he doesn’t see him. Sometimes it’s not a figure, sometimes it’s a deep rumble of a car, flashes of black and taillights as it drives off. He wonders what he’s done to deserve a stalker and his mind comes up with wild theories that seem so ridiculous when he tells Abby about them.

He’s working on his car a couple of weeks later and he feels eyes on him again. He pretends like always that he doesn’t but he does. He risks a glance up and frowns. The figure isn’t even looking in his direction. Something inside him snaps; he’s tired of being watched and it’s about time he got some answers. He drops his wrench on the roof of the car and stalks across the round and down the alley where the man is hiding. The man doesn’t see him coming and the element of surprise gives him the upper hand. He grabs the man’s bicep and spins him around before pressing him up against the wall with an arm against the man’s neck. He’s never been violent but the action felt so easy for him, like he’s done it before more than once.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands, his heart beating wildly in his chest and there’s a bitter taste in his mouth. The man pinned to the wall is tall and well built. His hair is shaggy and his eyes are deep and dark but none of his features mean anything to Scott. He doesn’t recognise anything about him. The man says nothing and he presses a little harder against his neck. “You’ve been following me around,” he continues. “Tell me _who you are!”_

As the man hesitates, Scott can see there are a million things going on in his mind. He finally answers. “My name is Sam - Sam Winchester - I’m your brother.”

Scott takes two steps back, pulling away from the man. “No.” He shakes his head. “I...I don’t have a brother.”

“Your name is Dean Winchester,” the man continues.

“My name is Scott!”

The man shrugs half-heartedly, “For the last six months maybe...but that’s not who you are.”

“Stop.” He’s not sure he wants to know, not sure he can even trust the man standing in front of him.

“You want me to prove it?” the man asks, taking a step towards him. “You woke up in this town six months ago with no memory of who you are or your life for the last thirty years...You have horrible nightmares that wake you up in the middle of the night...you have a tattoo.”

He freezes. How does this man know about his tattoo? The one he doesn’t remember getting?

“It’s a pentagram in a circle, right here.” The man points to his chest. “And you have a strange burn scar on your shoulder.”

Another link to the past he doesn’t remember. He’s stared at the burn in the mirror for hours. It looks like a handprint, which is impossible. His eyes narrow.  “You’ve been following me around, what’s to say you didn’t watch me through my bedroom window.”

“I know because I have one too,” the man replies as he grips the collar of his shirt and pulls it down. There, inked into his skin is an exact replica of Scott’s own tattoo.

“Just...just stay away from me.” Scott takes another step back and turns to leave.

“Dean,” the man calls and he stops mid stride. “Dean!”  He doesn’t know why the name feels more real to him than Scott.

“Dean,” he whispers to himself, testing the name out. It fits. Slowly, he turns around and faces the man...faces Sam.

“You have an empty space in your mind,” Sam begins, “And you feel it every day even when you’re putting on a brave face. You’re desperate for answers, Dean, but you’re not going to get them here. These people in this town are strangers to you and you know deep down that you don’t belong here. I can offer you all the answers to every question that has been churning around in your mind since day one...all you have to do is trust me.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Not at the moment.”  Sam agrees, “But you did. There’s something more familiar about me than anyone else you have met in six months,” Sam says incisively, and Scott can’t deny it. Even though he doesn’t recognise the man, there’s still something about him that feels _right._ “Wanna go get some pie? I know you like pie. I've got some old family photos in the car, I could show them to you...if you want,” Sam offers.

Go back to the life he’s built for himself in six short months, or take a leap of faith and hear what the man has to say. It’s a risk. What if he learns he’s not really a nice guy? What if he ends up remembering the traumatic event that made him like this? He’s not sure he wants to know. It’s the moment where he has to decide. His new life or his old one.

He answers the man, not knowing if he’s making the right decision. He’s not sure if he’ll ever know. “Okay.” He nods.


End file.
